


prague in the springtime.

by warfare



Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-29
Updated: 2007-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warfare/pseuds/warfare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe that's why it sounds so perfect to him when Tamaki first says it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prague in the springtime.

**Author's Note:**

> One of those requests from way back when; this one's for [](http://arisato.livejournal.com/profile)[**arisato**](http://arisato.livejournal.com/), who requested "Ouran High School Host Club, Mom/Dad, Prague in Springtime"; I guess this kind of counts as [](http://derogatory.livejournal.com/profile)[**derogatory**](http://derogatory.livejournal.com/)'s request for Kyouya/Tamaki, too, since this thing turned into a monster and has pretty much eaten any ideas I have ever had for this pairing.
> 
> I think it should be explained that I wrote the majority of this on the train to Osaka, and that I wrote it out of order - if things don't make sense, that's why. I thought it might work out stylistically and it actually resulted in me finishing something for once, so whatever. As always, I don't know if I love it or hate it (probably hate, inevitably), but here it is anyway.

**MONDAY**

Although they meet with almost off-putting regularity, Prague in the springtime is _theirs_. The statement seems overwrought and silly to Kyouya, like something out of a depressingly optimistic movie or a badly written romance novel, because really in day-to-day life, only an _idiot_ makes statements like that.

Maybe that's why it sounds so perfect to him when Tamaki first says it.

 

 **TUESDAY**

It starts as a birthday present for Kyouya - the day before he turns twenty-five, he gets the call from Tamaki, who is sitting in his living room ( _what are you doing working at this hour, it's dinner time, don't you know time spent around the table with family is very important to children during their formative years_ , buzzes the voice on the other side of the phone; Kyouya hangs up, but relents and answers by the third voicemail). Three hours later, he's flying out in a Suou family jet, canceling meetings with the board, pleading - death in the family - will be back on Saturday by midday - apologize for the inconvenience - will be reachable by email or cell during work hours.

They never discuss business on their trip, as both of them (Tamaki's always said, but it isn't until a chilly night on the fourth year that Kyouya admits it, aided by a couple glasses of wine and the face that Tamaki makes when he realizes that Kyouya's telling him something he hasn't told anyone else) are afraid of turning into their fathers. Tamaki always inquires after Kyouya's wife and sons, wants to know about their health, their growth, their favorite colors. Kyouya never asks about Tamaki's wife and daughter, and Tamaki knows from his silence not to bring them up.

Mostly they (Tamaki) talk about the Host Club, and about Haruhi. Haruhi's become a district attorney, Haruhi's twin girls have the top marks in their year at Ouran's elementary school, Haruhi forgot to call again (!!!). Tamaki wonders if perhaps she's been kidnapped, forced to work in the commoner salt mines (he read that they're becoming a problem now, and they're very harsh, and his delicate and cute daughter shouldn't have to be subjected to that sort of labor!) and Kyouya nods sympathetically and sends a carefully-worded email to Haruhi's work address, requesting that she call the hotel ASAP so that he might be able to catch a nap and sleep off his stress headache.

 

 **WEDNESDAY**

Tamaki claims that the first trip is because he's never been to Prague. By the third trip he knows every inch of their hotel room, but it's only on the fourth trip that he manages to see the astronomical clock. Truth be told, Tamaki loves the idea of Prague more than he loves the city itself, and Kyouya actually despises most of Western Europe. When Tamaki finds this out, they go through a couple of years trying to find a new location. In Britain they both get food poisoning. In America Tamaki drags him to a country-western bar. They agree never to bring up their trip to Egypt again.

They go to Paris one year, and then never again - the scenery is lovely and the food is first-class, but although she's long-gone, the memory of the one thing Tamaki could have given the Host Club for lingers like a third person just around the corner, and the pate is ashy in Kyouya's mouth. The next year, they go back to Prague, because it's safe and familiar and anyway Tamaki still hasn't seen Vinohrady.

"Next year, let's go to Kyoto," Tamaki always says, long arms outstretched above his head, in a voice that indicates that he's made up his mind, but he never means it really. Kyouya books a room in a hotel near the Golden Pavilion every year, just in case.

 

 **THURSDAY**

Kyouya always requests a room with a view, but they inevitably stick them in room 319, which overlooks a side alley. Their third year, when Kyouya thinks to complain, Tamaki confesses that he's been requesting it.

"What do we come here for, anyway?" Kyouya mutters, more to himself than to anyone else, collapsing frustrated and exhausted and a little jet-lagged into a nearby armchair. Down below three children are playing loudly in the street, their mother's scolding echoing up through the open window. Tamaki is stretched out on the bed, long pianist's fingers gripping the windowsill as he pulls himself up for a better look. "Two rooms and a hallway down and we could be looking over the Charles Bridge, and you request this one. Why don't you want a view?!"

"I've got one," Tamaki replies, watching languidly out the window as the mother ushers her children into their house for dinner. A smile lights his face, and Kyouya realizes that his question was rhetorical, and he knows exactly why he comes to Prague.

 

 **FRIDAY**

Tamaki over-sugars his coffee, Kyouya notes one morning over breakfast. The blond sheepishly admits that since he's started drinking commoner coffee, he's lost all taste for the real thing. Kyouya sips his coffee black, and Tamaki laughs boyishly. "That's so like you!" he says, and Kyouya smiles around his mug ("World's #1 Mom," it proclaims proudly - a Christmas gift from you-know-who two years ago; Kyouya observes that, luckily, his children have more taste than this clown. "But Kyouya," was the protest, "I made it myself, in a 'kiosk' at a commoner shopping mall!" as if that explains or excuses it) and says nothing in reply.

They sightsee in the morning, but retire by mid-afternoon; their first year they stay out for the whole day, but the streets are annoyingly crowded and Tamaki has an unfortunate habit of buying anything that comes with a sob story, so by the third year they retreat into their room by three in the afternoon. The breeze is light and the curtains rustle gently and occasionally it even manages to be quiet in the alley below, and Kyouya closes the windows and draws the blinds.

Some days in the early evening he wakes up and in spite of the windows being shut the smell of newly blooming flowers hangs heavy in the air. He rolls over, presses his back to Tamaki's, times his breathing to match, and whispers to no-one - let me stay like this just a moment longer.

 

 **SATURDAY**

Every year they survey their empty room, their packed bags in the corner. Tamaki opens the window one last time, waves enthusiastically at the kids down below, brushes pollen from his coat and inhales the spring air deeply. Kyouya has eight missed calls and fourteen new messages, but he spreads his fingers out over the sheets, runs them over the fabric. They never say anything, because everything that they should be saying is deeply embedded in every speck of dust, every flaking paint peel, every breath that they take together, inhale sharply with the scent of goodbye hanging all around.

Kyouya’s driver picks him up at the landing site. "Don’t forget," Tamaki shouts as the car is pulling away, "next year, it’s Kyoto for sure!" Kyouya waves out the window with an exasperated smile, doesn't look back; he pulls out his cell but doesn’t check his missed calls, and thinks instead about the paint flecks in that hole-in-the-wall hotel, about dusk, about room 319. He calls Tamaki instead.

"We forgot to go to Vinohrady again."


End file.
